


metanoia.

by turnaboutcafe



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Character Analysis, Character Development, Character Study, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humor, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Sad and Happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23490094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnaboutcafe/pseuds/turnaboutcafe
Summary: metanoia.(n.) the journey of changing one's mind, heart, self or way of life; spiritual conversion.oikawa discovers the true meaning of life. iwaizumi holds his hand through it.— an oikawa character study fic
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	metanoia.

**Author's Note:**

> yes i'm aware this is out of canon because oikawa canonically only starts volleyball in junior high, but i liked the idea of oikawa and iwaizumi meeting as kids in a volleyball club, so i made a bit of changes to canon facts.

“Sakura-sensei, he stole my milk bread!”

“I didn’t!”

Iwaizumi and Oikawa stood in front of their fourth grade homeroom teacher. She looked at them disapprovingly, eyes sharp as she watched the both of them. Iwaizumi had his hand pointing accusingly at Oikawa, who could barely look up to meet his teacher’s eyes as he fidgeted with his hands. Iwaizumi continued complaining to the teacher, an array of protests on his stolen milk bread filling the air. As he did, Oikawa could feel the churning feeling of guilt beginning to build up in his stomach, unsure of how to react. Still, he held his cool expression, trying to keep himself calm as he faced Iwaizumi’s accusations.

“You must have misplaced it somewhere!” Oikawa retorted uncomfortably, eyes wavering as he tried to meet Iwaizumi’s. He still remembered the blissful taste of the soft milk bread he had at lunch.

“No way,” Iwaizumi butted back, whipping around to look at Oikawa. “My mom always packs my lunch properly. There’s no way the milk bread could have disappeared! I didn’t take it out at all!”

“I didn’t take it!”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“Boys!” the teacher called out, voice firm. They immediately stopped. “Oikawa-kun, I need you to tell me the truth. Did you or did you not eat Iwaizumi’s milk bread?”

“I didn’t!” Oikawa insisted, heart palpitating rapidly as he made his bold faced lie, the coolness he plastered on his face beginning to shake as the teacher squinted her eyes at him. “Iwaizumi only saw me eat milk bread at lunch, but I also bring milk bread to school!”

“Let’s settle it by calling your parents then,” the teacher resolved with a sigh, taking a telephone from the desk. As she did so, Oikawa’s chocolatey eyes widened, stomach squirming uncomfortably, heart beating even faster as she pressed numbers into the keypad of the telephone. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep calm, but he immediately faltered. In an instant, Oikawa’s calm demeanor was crushed.

“Okay, okay, I took the bread,” Oikawa mumbled uncomfortably at Iwaizumi, who had a grim look on his face. “But it was only because milk bread is my favorite food…”

“You shouldn’t have taken it,” the teacher scolded gently, placing the phone back on its cradle. Oikawa stared at the floor, uncomfortably conscious of the hard stare both Iwaizumi and his teacher was giving him as he shifted from foot to foot, unsure of what to do. He bit his lip, trying to keep his eyes from watering at the burning stares on his head.

“Apologize to Iwaizumi-kun.” 

Oikawa bowed at his classmate, still staring at the ground. “I’m sorry.”

Without a reply, Iwaizumi turned around, leaving Oikawa bowing at nothing as he left the classroom. Dejectedly, Oikawa sighed, looking up at his teacher, who motioned for him to leave the class. Slinging his bag on his shoulders, he slowly made his way out of the room, his books weighing heavier on his back than he remembered them being that morning. Today was meant to be a good day, the first day of school where he would make friends and learn volleyball with team mates for the very first time, and he’d messed it up already.

All because of milk bread.

After several minutes of walking, Oikawa found himself at the gym, several students already gathered there for the first volleyball practice of the year. The gym was large, much larger than the one in his previous school. The wooden floors were neatly polished, tall volleyball nets set up throughout the gym with students warming up around it, balls tossed in the air and students scrambling to hit it correctly with their palms. The air was filled with excited, nervous energy, pulsating throughout the air like a heatwave as anticipation built in the air, everyone enthusiastic for the first volleyball session of the year.

As he walked into the room, Oikawa produced his neatly filled registration form from his bag, giving it to the tall student who seemed to be leading the team. He accepted it with a smile, turning to put his form in a file.

“First time playing volleyball?” the older student asked, a kind smile on his face as Oikawa nodded. “Don’t worry, we’ll train you to be the best player ever!”

Oikawa could feel his tenseness dissipate at the kind smile of the team captain. He bubbled with benevolence, bright smiles at all the new and old members of the team as he helped the teacher sort through registration forms, leading the attending members in warmups as he did, calling out different practices for the scattered members to practice with the volleyballs they had. There was an air of grandness to him, yet he seemed to try to shut it down in the interest of maintaining his amiable presence, approachable even with his tall stature and toned body. Even with an evidently more athletic and experienced frame, he still acted kindly to everyone, not a trace of arrogance in his kind-hearted greetings.

Oikawa wanted to be like that.

“Excuse me, here’s my registration form.”

“Great! First time playing volleyball?” the captain asked the new spiky haired boy in front of him, who nodded. “We’ll start with warm ups soon, so just start stretching anywhere.”

Oikawa swore that he’d seen that spiky haired boy before.

Then it clicked.

“What are you doing here?” Iwaizumi asked, looking at Oikawa with hard eyes. “Why are you at my volleyball practice?”

“Why are you at _mine_?” Oikawa demanded, looking back at Iwaizumi. The boy was dressed in their school’s signature black and red sports uniform, the crest of their school emblazoned onto it.

“Why are you the one who’s mad? You’re the one that took my milk bread!”

Before Oikawa could shoot back a reply, a whistle sounded in the air, bringing everyone’s attention to it. The coach called them all to the center of the gym, sparing no time for introductions to put them immediately to work with proper dynamic warm ups. They began with simple exercises like jumping jacks, progressing to endless laps around the large gym and weird complicated stretches Oikawa couldn’t even begin pronouncing the names of, or doing correctly. As he did all his warm ups, he couldn’t help but glare at Iwaizumi, the mere sight of whom left a bad taste in his mouth. 

It didn’t take long for Oikawa to notice that Iwaizumi was glaring at him too.

Immediately, anger surged through Oikawa, a rush of adrenaline hitting him as he did his jumping jacks faster than before, flinging his arms in the air faster than he’d ever done before. As if it was a challenge, Iwaizumi began speeding up, jumping into the air at a speed faster than light. Grimacing, Oikawa hastened his jumping jacks, still glaring daggers at the shorter boy across him.

As the coach called the jumping jacks to a halt, Oikawa could feel the exhaustion begin to set into his muscles, causing him to grimace. Still, he kept his cool exterior, trying not to let the exhaustion show in the face of the spiky haired boy, who was putting on an equally strong face despite the quivering of his limbs.

“We’ll start with receiving now,” the coach called out. “Get into pairs with another person in the room. You should be passing to each other for ten minutes.”

As everyone paired off, Oikawa looked desperately for someone to practice with, the sinking realization that he was the only first year settling into his stomach. Everyone was older and taller, with their own friend groups and designated cliques that they wanted to pair up with. Oikawa didn’t have anyone. Soon, Oikawa was left alone in the center of the court. Oikawa recognized no one in the sea of people, and he didn’t like it.

“Hey, you two, pair up!” the coach called, beckoning to Oikawa and another boy.

It was Iwaizumi.

Oikawa tried to stifle a grimace as he hesitantly walked towards Iwaizumi, unable to hide his dislike for the raven haired boy. Oikawa took a ball from the coach with a sigh, Iwaizumi as stone faced as ever. He served the ball towards Iwaizumi as the coach had demonstrated, hit slightly clumsy, causing it to collide Iwaizumi’s hand off center. Still, it bounced off with a satisfying sound, sending the ball back at Oikawa. Unsurely, Oikawa placed his hand into the fist-like formation used in volleyball, aiming his receive back at Iwaizumi. It flung to Iwaizumi’s right, causing him to jump to the side to prevent it from flinging into two second years practicing behind them.

“Receive it more accurately,” Iwaizumi snapped, serving the ball to Oikawa. Oikawa could feel his blood boil at the words, but said nothing.

This time, Oikawa hit the ball straight on, bouncing it perfectly on his fisted hands back at Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi, eyes flashing, hit the ball in the exact same way. Albeit slightly clumsily, Oikawa received it again, sending the ball in the direction of Iwaizumi once again. They continued, their receives becoming stronger and stronger, each one outdoing the previous one.

_I won’t lose to this idiot!_

“You should receive it more _strongly_ ,” Oikawa snapped at Iwaizumi as his receive fell short, barely making it to Oikawa. 

Iwaizumi glared daggers at him. “Ass-kawa…”

As if to prove a point, Oikawa moved his arms as hard as he could towards the ball, sending it flying in the air towards Iwaizumi. As the ball found itself a meter above Iwaizumi’s head, Oikawa looked at Iwaizumi with a smirk. There was no way Iwaizumi would be able to receive that. 

Iwaizumi looked up at the flying ball, unfazed as he squatted low to the ground, launching himself up. He jumped high into the air, extending his arm as he spiked the ball straight at the ground, movement of the ball quick and immediate. Oikawa glared at the boy, preparing himself to receive the ball as Iwaizumi extended his arm. Grimacing, he received the ball again, sending it flying at Iwaizumi once more. Several impressed gasps sounded around them.

But before Iwaizumi could receive his toss again, a loud voice sounded behind them.

“Iwaizumi-kun, Oikawa-kun!”

Both of them turned to the direction of the sound. The team captain was beckoning at them, a large smile on his face. Oikawa could feel his heart beat faster as they walked towards the tall captain, unease settling in Oikawa’s stomach as he continued to look at the captain beckoning towards them with a smile on his face. Why was the captain calling them? Did they do something wrong? Did he notice the energy around them as they made remarks against each other? Did he hear the remarks Oikawa made at Iwaizumi?

Oikawa jogged to the captain, uncertainty causing his stomach to squelch as Iwaizumi flanked him, the same unsure expression painted on his face. The team captain smiled at the two of them as they approached, catching the volleyball that he had bounced on the ground. Oikawa felt his hair rise.

“Have either of you ever played volleyball before?” he asked, looking at the two of them. They shook their heads. Oikawa chewed at his lips, nervousness overtaking his body. Was he going to ask them to leave because they weren’t good enough? There _had_ to be a reason why no first year wanted to join the sport—

“We want you to try for setter and spiker.”

Oikawa had read enough about volleyball to know what that was. “You want us to be a setter and spiker?”

“Oikawa-kun as setter, and Iwaizumi-kun as a spiker. We saw your spike, Iwaizumi-kun, it was impressive, especially for a first year.” 

Iwaizumi smiled, not an ounce of his pride hidden under his boyish smile. Oikawa’s lips pressed into a thin line, prickled by the captain’s praise of Iwaizumi. 

“I’m sure you’ll make a great team.”

_Sure._

As the days carried on, Oikawa was forced into practices with Iwaizumi, the captain insisting on them practicing tosses and spikes millions of times. The first practice ended with dozens of Iwaizumi’s missed spikes, making him swing furiously at the ball every chance he could, even if he missed a better portion of them. As he did, Oikawa couldn’t help but fling barbed tongued insults at the spiker, earning glares from him and an equally sharp reply, making Oikawa toss even quicker and higher at the spiker just to spite him.

There was no way they were ever going to work together.

But before he knew it, their practice bled into their first match of the season. Oikawa’s palms were sweaty with nervousness as the team warmed up with tosses and receives, hitting balls over the net as they warmed up their muscles. Their opponents glowered at them from the opposite side of the court, evidently much taller than their own team. He could barely move his fingers enough to toss the ball, each of them barely high enough for the spiker to hit. As Iwaizumi missed another spike, Oikawa glared at him, but said nothing. He couldn’t insult Iwaizumi in front of his seniors. 

As the game started, Oikawa could feel the fire begin to burn inside of him, bursting out as he served as best as he could, hitting the spots the opponents could barely make their way to before the ball hit the wooden ground. Each time the opponents missed his serve, he basked in the glory of his teammate’s cheers, making a pointed glance at Iwaizumi with a smirk. Iwaizumi’s face didn’t move the slightest as Oikawa scored another point with his serve, completely focused on the game.

The game felt different than what it looked like on TV. As he played, Oikawa could feel the adrenaline running through him as he tossed balls in the air for his teammates, nervous energy coursing through his veins as he tried to make each toss as perfect as he possibly could, grimacing each time the toss was just slightly off, groaning each time his toss missed its mark. Still, he strived forward, trying to toss perfectly above the spiker, satisfaction settling as he felt his days of practice after school pay off.

“Nice receive!” Oikawa called out as their libero rebounded the serve, letting the ball go in the air. Momentarily, Oikawa’s eyes averted to the scoreboard, nervousness gnawing at his stomach. They were at match point, and the other team was only one point away from them.

“Oikawa-kun!” their libero called out, Oikawa coming back into attention at the sound.

Deftly, Oikawa ran under the ball, hands placed above his head, ready to toss. As he did, he observed his surrounding teammates, looking at everyone. Blockers seemed to line the opposite side of the court with no gap, all steely eyed with their arms poised up to block the ball. Gritting his teeth, Oikawa froze. None of their spikers could pass that block. It was too tall, too strong.

“Toss to me!” a voice called out.

Oikawa turned, watching as Iwaizumi ran up to the net, launching himself in the air. For a moment, Iwaizumi’s missed spikes flashed through Oikawa’s mind, his fingers freezing for a moment as he looked at the flying spiker. Hastily, he pushed the feeling down, training his eyes on Iwaizumi. Oikawa tossed at him, just as they did hesitantly millions of times with grumbles during their practice session. Iwaizumi’s hand connected with the ball, spiking it with all the force he had left in him. It made a resounding sound against his palm, the white ball perfectly fitting into it. It landed with a thump on the ground. It was a satisfying sound.

It was the sound of victory.

As the referee blew his whistle, blood roared in Oikawa’s ears as his teammates cheered around him, hitting him and Iwaizumi on the back. As he found himself back in consciousness, Oikawa began cheering along with his teammates, chanting their school name as they jumped around in circles. A wide smile was plastered on his face, remaining there, unable to be pushed back down. As he scanned the court, his eyes met with one person’s.

Iwaizumi was smiling. It was a hesitant smile, like he was unsure whether he should be happy or not. Oikawa continued smiling, unfazed at the sight of the boy he had picked a fight with on the first day of school. At the absence of Oikawa’s scowl, Iwaizumi smiled back at him, grinning with a full set of teeth.

“Nice toss,” Iwaizumi smiled. Oikawa grinned back.

There were some things you couldn’t do without becoming friends with the person you do it with. Maybe winning a volleyball match together was one of them.

* * *

Oikawa slammed the volleyball to the ground as Shiratorizawa scored another point, anger coursing through his veins as the large screen beside him flashed the points of the match. His teammates glanced at him, worry written all over their sweat beaded faces, but none of them came to confront Oikawa for his actions. Oikawa could feel blood pounding in his ears as he faced the magenta-white uniformed opposition, their figures looming tall over Oikawa as he stood on the front lines, gazes unwavering.

It was the final match of their junior high year, and they were going to lose.

As the game continued, the libero received the ball to Oikawa, right above his hands, in the perfect position to toss to Iwaizumi. He placed his hands above his head, poised to toss. As he lifted himself off the ground to reach the ball, adrenaline spiked his brain, energy running through the ball as he tossed it towards Iwaizumi. 

Only it never reached Iwaizumi.

Without warning, the referee’s whistle blew shrilly, calling all the players’ attention to him. Oikawa looked up, vision hazed by his anger at his toss, the remains of which laid within an out of bounds ball. But, as he saw what the referee was calling attention to, a sinking feeling pummelled his stomach.

Kageyama was standing on the side of the court, eyes round and worried as he held up a sign with a number. He could see the genius setter’s eyes cloud with nervousness as he chewed his lips, hand quivering ever so slightly as he held up the sign, uncertainty filled in him. Oikawa closed his eyes, massaging his temples as he waited for the player exchange to happen. But, as he did, gazes burned the back of his head, his eyes fluttering open at the sensation. Looking up, Oikawa’s eyes focused on the black number on Kageyama’s sign, and as it did, he felt his heart plummet.

Very clearly written on the sign was the number one.

Oikawa froze, muscles paralyzed as he saw the number, blood freezing. Whispers blossomed throughout the crowd, pointing at Oikawa as Kageyama continued to hold up the sign, the referee looking at the both of them. Wordlessly, Oikawa willed his muscles to move, to let him follow the coach’s instructions for the switch. But still, it refused to move, pegged on the ground, as if it had been molded into wet cement and he couldn’t move. It wanted to say.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said gently, patting an arm on his back. “Come on.”

Oikawa pulled himself back to reality, nodding at Iwaizumi as he moved to the edge of the court. He gripped the sign in Kageyama’s hand harshly, taking a glance at the young setter as he made his way onto the court, young body pulsing with energy as it took Oikawa’s place at the front of the court, greeted warmly by his teammates. As another whistle blew, Oikawa could feel his heart squeeze, his teeth gritting as he watched his team play. He could feel his heart wrench out of his chest as he continued to watch the sight.

As he watched his team continue the game without him.

Cheers and whoops sounded from the crowd as Kageyama made his first successful serve, making Oikawa clench his fists, mute anger seething through him, rushing through his veins as he watched Kageyma’s first match. His sets were unparalleled, precision impeccable as he tossed towards Iwaizumi, letting him spike it perfectly onto the wooden gym floor. It won a point against Shiratorizawa.

Kageyama won a point he couldn’t.

As the game closed its final set, Shiratorizawa took the victory again. Oikawa smiled as he saw his name engraved onto the ‘best setter’ award, unsure of what to say. Iwaizumi patted him on the back comfortingly as he watched his friend take the award, pride evident even behind his usual small smile. Oikawa smiled back.

But he felt empty.

Oikawa was back at the Kitagawa Daiichi gym, hitting tosses over the net. He couldn’t help but revel in the satisfaction of the ball against his palm, hitting it with a satisfying sound as it bounced sharply towards the wooden ground, leaving a scuff mark on the polished wood. He could feel his anger compound as he continued to hit the balls, hitting harder and harder every time. He tossed a ball in the air, jumping as he made the serve over the net, ball hitting with a satisfying thunk.

“What are you still doing here?!”

Oikawa turned around, Iwaizumi standing at the entrance of the gym, arms folded over his chest. 

Oikawa frowned at his best friend, turning to hit another ball. “I have to practice.”

“No you don’t,” Iwaizumi retorted sharply, catching Oikawa’s toss midair before he had the chance to spike it. “Coach _just_ told you that you were overworking yourself, yet you’re here again. Take a break, Oikawa.”

“No!”

Iwaizumi’s leg hit Oikawa’s back, causing him to crumple onto the ground, growling as he did so. “You’re coming with me out of the gym. Help me pick up the balls!”

Iwaizumi dragged Oikawa behind him, forcing him to pick up the scattered balls throughout the ground. Sighing, Oikawa resigned, letting Iwaizumi drag him around to clean up the mess he had made throughout the court. Putting a final ball back into the cart, Oikawa sighed, rolling the cart of volleyballs back to its designated corner of a gym.

Suddenly, a voice spoke behind him. “Oikawa-san, can you teach me how to serve?”

Oikawa whipped around, bristling as he recognized the voice. Kageyama was standing behind him, dark blue eyes wide as he held a volleyball in his hand, extending it to Oikawa. Oikawa stared at the boy, gaze steeling as he observed the young player, spitefully glaring. He gritted his teeth as he continued to stare at the genius setter, gripping the metal edge of the volleyball cart. Kageyama’s eyes were wide and innocent, sapphire eyes glinting with passion.

But he conjured the image of Kageyama holding up the sign.

Kageyama’s face twisted, flashing red, his gentle blue eyes a dark devilish color. His smile turned malicious, a painted smirk in place of his gentle smile. The devil drew itself on Kageyama’s face, sharp and glinting with hostility, staring straight into Oikawa’s eyes. The Kitagawa Daiichi uniform turned a repulsive magenta, Oikawa’s eyes shaking as he saw it. 

For a moment, Oikawa saw Ushijima.

“Get away from me!” Oikawa lashed, flinging his arm at Kageyama.

But his arm stopped.

Oikawa looked up. But, instead of seeing Kageyama’s blue eyes, he saw Iwaizumi’s cold, calculating ones. Oikawa’s eyes widened, gasping as Kageyama came back in sight, blue eyes wide as he looked at his senior. Iwaizumi’s gaze was feral, staring straight at Oikawa as he gritted his teeth, his effort to stay calm clear on his face. Oikawa clenched his teeth, staring back at Iwaizumi, Kageyama shielded behind him.

“Kageyama, thank you,” Iwaizumi managed. “You can go for today. I’ll help you with your serves another time.”

“O-okay,” Kageyama managed as he dropped the volleyball in his hands, quickly jogging out of the gym, closing the door behind him. As he did, Iwaizumi’s gaze on Oikawa harshened, kindness gone from his eyes.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Iwaizumi demanded, looking at Oikawa. “He’s 12; he just wanted to learn how to serve!”

“I can’t teach him how to serve!” Oikawa spat, looking at his friend, eyes berserk. “I can’t teach him how to serve. He’s a genius, okay? I’m not. I don’t need to teach him anything that will make him better than what I made myself to be!”

A fist met his face.

Oikawa spluttered. His hand to his cheek, red from Iwaizumi’s fist. Iwaizumi’s body heaved in anger, looking at him with hard eyes. Oikawa could distantly feel the metallic tang of blood in his mouth, tender with pain.

“Stop saying ‘I’!” Iwaizumi yelled, eyes sharpening. “You making yourself better won’t make us beat Shiratorizawa tomorrow, or next week, or even next year. It doesn’t matter how much you train. Your own efforts won’t solve the entire team’s problems!”

“But I need to be the best—”

“You can’t be the best at everything!” Iwaizumi yelled, grabbing Oikawa by the collar. “Kageyama is a genius, so let him be! He makes our team strong because he sets to us, he sees what’s important!”

“I want to make our team strong!” Oikawa cried, salty tears beginning to escape his eyes, glistening under the gym’s harsh light. “I want to make everyone stronger. I want to make us win, I want to bring us to nationals!”

Iwaizumi’s eyes softened as he looked at Oikawa. “Oikawa, this is about Shiratorizawa, isn’t it?”

Iwaizumi’s grip on Oikawa loosened. “No it’s not.”

“Oikawa, you did your best.”

“And it wasn’t enough.”

Tears continued to stream down Oikawa’s cheeks, uncontrollable as he stared at his friend. He rubbed at it harshly, covering his face with his hands as he sobbed, tears unending, dripping onto the floor.

“I’m fine,” Oikawa managed after a few moments.

“Don’t act like you are.”

Iwaizumi embraced Oikawa, reassuring hands around him. Oikawa slumped onto him, tears beginning to form again as he held onto his best friend desperately, tears soaking into his shirt.

“You’ll be fine, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi whispered.

_I’ll be fine._

* * *

_And the victor for the Inter High tournament is Shiratorizawa!_

Oikawa flung the ball into the air, spiking it across the gym. It landed with a thud on the floor, rolling off to the side. Oikawa heaved, arms supporting him on his slightly bent knees, beads of perspiration running down his face. He looked at the dent he’d made on the ground of the gym, uncaring as he spiked another ball over the net. As he did, he fell onto the ground, exhaustion overcoming him as he laid sprawled, panting.

As he looked up, his vision split, unconcentrated as he stared to the other side of the net. Ushijima stood over him, olive eyes staring down at him. A ball fell dejectedly beside him, rolling away beside the crumpled Oikawa. As it did, Ushijima jumped, a ball flying in the air, his palm striking down.

“No!” Oikawa screamed, jumping over the net to block the ball.

But as his vision came back, the only thing opposite him was an empty court.

“I can’t lose,” Oikawa murmured, eyes wild as it flitted around the court. “I can’t lose!”

Another ball made its way across the court, slamming into the ground with a resounding thud. As he held another ball in his hands, he found himself back on the tournament court, waiting for the ball to come into his hands as the libero launched it into the air. He could see the ball coming towards him, a small speck coming closer and closer. He launched it in the air, straight at Iwaizumi.

But he didn’t hear the smack of a spike the moment after he tossed it.

He turned around the ball bouncing onto the ground as his aqua uniformed team mates looked at it, eyes unmoving. It rolled out of bounds, a shrill whistle coming in the air as the referee declared a point against them.

Oikawa Tooru had missed a toss.

“What kind of setter can’t toss?” Oikawa mumbled, finding himself in the Aoba Johsai court again, another ball coming up in the air at his spike. “I can’t do anything right!”

But instead of hitting the ground, his ball came back up in the air. Oikawa looked up, and met Iwaizumi’s dark eyes.

“Taking out your anger on a volleyball won’t change the match this morning,” Iwaizumi sighed, picking up the scattered volleyballs. “Stop, Oikawa.”

Oikawa ignored him, picking up another volleyball from the ground. He threw it in the air, running at it. He jumped as high as he could, bringing his palm at the ball at lightning speed. Satisfaction ran through him as the ball connected, spiking it with a clean sound resonating in the air. He did it this time. He hit it correctly. This time, it made its way across the court. This time, he passed it. 

But this time, he didn’t land on his feet.

“Oikawa!”

Electric pain shot up through Oikawa’s legs, braced knee on fire as he laid on a heap on the ground. A hammer hit at his knee, spreading burning pain throughout him as he writhed on the floor. Oikawa gritted his teeth, closing his eyes as the fiery pain continued to spread, slowly making its way up his leg as he desperately tried to shut it out, groans of pain elicited from his lips as the pain continued to work its way up his body. His knee was covered in his white brace, skin unexposed from Oikawa’s desperate hands, trying to numb the pain as he scrabbled at the brace, trying to release it. Iwaizumi’s panicked voice was clouded in his ears, only his panic evident in the voice, none of his words registering in his brain through the pain. Iwaizumi was at his side now, lips opening as he yelled at him, but Oikawa could hear none of it.

“Oikawa? Oikawa!” Iwaizumi managed, waving his hand over Oikawa. “Can you hear me?”

Iwaizumi sounded faint, so far away.

“I can,” Oikawa breathed out. He could barely.

“Idiot,” Iwaizumi murmured, panic still evident in his eyes as he unwrapped Oikawa’s brace, placing pressure on the knee as he tested it. Oikawa recoiled as Iwaizumi pressed a bruised point on his knee, eyes shutting as tears threatened to escape from the pain. As Iwaizumi straightened his leg, Oikawa kept his eyes closed, gripping Iwaizumi’s shoulder as the pain compounded, soft grimaces of pain escaping his lips. 

“You need ice.”

Iwaizumi had sat him up on a chair, resting his leg on another, an icepack on his knee. Despite the cold, the knee had swollen up, clearly inflamed with red skin. Oikawa grimaced, trying to put his leg back on the floor before Iwaizumi dragged it back up to rest on the chair.

“I’m fine, Hajime.”

“That statement alone suggests that you’re not,” Iwaizumi shot back. “You need rest.”

“I don’t,” Oikawa grimaced, trying to move from his position on the chair. “I need practice.”

“You don’t need more practice,” Iwaizumi growls, shoving Oikawa back, letting his back hit the chair in an attempt to force him back to a sitting position. “You need rest, and more rest because of your knee.”

“My knee’s fine.”

“When will you stop saying that you’re fine?” Iwaizumi demanded, eyes blazing in anger. “You’re not fine, Tooru. You’re not!”

Oikawa clenched his teeth, recoiling at Iwaizumi’s words, a fire burning in his eyes as he glared at his friend. “You don't have the right to decide whether or not I’m fine. Only I can confidently say that I’m fine.”

“You fell on the same knee,” Iwaizumi growled, concern flitting under his enraged eyes. “Don’t think that I didn’t notice the brace was white, not black.”

For a moment, Oikawa gaped, helpless.

“The knee healed. This time it will heal again,” Oikawa managed. He didn’t know if he believed himself.

“You don’t know that.”

Oikawa fell silent. His eyes looked at the wooden floor of the gym, unmoving as he dragged his eyes to look at his knee. The crippling pain felt the same as it did in his first year, when he first fell. But he couldn’t say that to Iwaizumi.

He couldn’t stop practicing.

“I’m fine,” Oikawa repeated firmly, standing up amidst his friend’s protests. “See? I’m—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Oikawa’s knee gave out, body crumpling under him. Iwaizumi caught him under his arms, supporting his friend, almost hugging him. Iwaizumi’s scent enveloped him, masculine yet gentle. It reminded him of Junior High.

“You’re not fine, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi whispered. “It’s okay not to be.”

And at those words, Oikawa broke down.

Oikawa could barely remember being rolled into the emergency room the next day. He could feel nothing but his knee. It was like someone was hammering it with a nail, driving it into his flesh, piercing the hard muscle and breaking the bone, like blood was gushing from an open wound he couldn’t close. All he could see was the bright lights of the hospital flashing at him, his senses muted as nurses rushed around him, panic evident in their voices as they tried to numb the pain in his knee. Nothing else registered.

Only the pain.

“The surgery will be expensive.”

The voice was distant, like the person who’d said so was miles away from him, voice barely a whisper. It was a doctor, and he sounded serious.

“We can’t go through with it. He has to give up volleyball.”

His heart broke.

“Are you sure?”

Oikawa moved to open his mouth, but he couldn’t. It felt as if all the energy had been taken from his body, dissipating from him. His lips moved slightly, but he could barely open them, as if he was paralysed. He wanted to yell, he wanted to scream. He wanted to tell them that he couldn’t give it up.

He wanted to tell them that he was fine.

Tears began to stream down his eyes, warm and salty as they fell into the pillow. He could hear the signing of a form, the weeps of what sounded like his parents. He wanted to tell them he couldn’t give it up. He wanted to play. He wanted to toss. He wanted to serve again. He wanted to hear the cheers of his fans as they proclaimed him a service ace. He wanted to win with Iwaizumi again.

He wanted to feel alive again.

With the last of his strength, Oikawa parted his lips. “Please, I can’t give it up.”

Then it was all black.

* * *

“Takeru, you have to move your whole body when you receive, not just your arms,” Oikawa informed his nephew, showing him the proper stance to take when receiving a serve. “If not, your receives will go the wrong way, and it’ll be hard for the setter to use the ball you receive to them.”

His nephew nodded, trying the receive once again against the serve of his teammate. As he moved his whole body forwards, the ball moved towards the setter, who tossed it successfully. The whole team cheered as the ball touched the wooden ground opposite the net, Oikawa clapping as he saw his tiny nephew’s excited face. It was a grin that Oikawa would never forget.

“Oikawa-san, you’re awesome!” one of the children spoke, smile wide on his face, cheeks red from the exertion of volleyball. Oikawa flashed a smile at the child, causing their smile to widen even more. As they looked away, Oikawa’s smile softened, observing the small band of children as they continued their game of volleyball. It was a simple game to them, where all they had to do was get the ball to touch the floor on the opposite side of the court. Their serves were clumsy, receives misplaced and spikes lacking technique. 

Still, Oikawa envied them. 

They played with ease, no strings attached to something they simply viewed a sport they did every Saturday when their parents brought them there to meet their friends. They never cried when they lost, always just asking to play another set in an attempt to win, childish laughter filling the air at misses and kiddish applause at successful points. It was an easy carefree game for them, where missing a spike or tossing wrongly would simply lead to laughs and retries. None of them apologized for their shortcomings, or got mad for losing or not being the best. No one practiced aftertime, going for ice cream and pizza hangouts instead. No one got hurt, and no one was sad. It was carefree and fun. 

It was everything volleyball wasn’t for him.

“Oikawa-san, show us your serve!” another child piped up excitedly as the set concluded. “I saw you do it on TV once, it was so cool!”

The others cheered in agreement, passing a volleyball to Oikawa excitedly, eyes shining at him. Oikawa laughed, taking the ball in his hands as he played around with it, unsure of what to do to please the band of rowdy children.

“You saw me on TV?”

“Yeah! It was amazing!”

Oikawa forced a smile, their excited chirps drowned out by his thoughts. He’d seen himself on TV, too. But everytime he did, he felt his heart squeeze a little. He never liked watching the local news on volleyball if he was in it, even if he was on the program that day. All they would ever mention was his looks, his dark brown hair or his chocolate eyes, or his toned body. ‘The golden ratio of Miyagi’ was a name he used to love, just how he revelled in others calling him the Great King. But, soon, that was all he was. He was only the golden ratio of Miyagi, a pretty boy. Not the service ace. Not Aoba Johsai’s captain. Not the one who led them to victory against veteran schools. Not the one who beat Karasuno. Not Iwaizumi’s deadly setter. Just the golden ratio of Miyagi.

He hated it. 

He put up a smile for them, the children cheering even louder when he approached the line at the end of the court, ball in hand as his shirt moved with the wind. Taking a breath, he threw the ball up into the air, squatting before he jumped with the energy he could muster. His hand connected with the ball, barely matching the center of his palm as he spiked it across. It landed on the opposite side with a resounding thud. 

_Ah, I jumped to short._

As Oikawa looked back, all of the children were wide eyed, as if they couldn’t believe what they saw, cheering as the ball hit the other side. Oikawa was met with their enthusiastic chatter, begging Oikawa to teach them how to do the ‘monster serve’. He laughed, wondering if they ever noticed that he didn’t jump high enough, and that the ball didn’t hit the palm of his hand as squarely as it usually did. He wondered if they knew.

He wondered if they knew he wasn’t a genius.

His nephew cut into his thoughts. “Oikawa-san, you’re the best!”

Oikawa smiled at Takeru, leaving him to run off for another set with his friends as he sat on the sidelines of the court, his nephew’s words ringing in his head. He smiled sadly as he watched his carefree students jump around for the ball, technique missing in their lopsided winning strategies.

He still wondered if they knew he wasn’t the best.

He wondered if they knew about Kageyama, who could do the best toss in the prefecture, precision amazing even in his first game against Shiratorizawa, scoring point after point even in his first year of high school. He wondered if they knew that someone two years his junior could do just as good as him, or even better at something he was supposed to be the best at. Or if they knew that his serve wasn’t the best in the prefecture; it was Ushijima and Kageyama’s, and he’d trained tenfold what they had.

Did they see him in his loss against Shiratorizawa, when he could barely put 15 points into the match? Or when he failed to receive Hinata’s final spike in the Karasuno match, even if he reacted? Did they know that Ushijima was still first place, no matter how hard Oikawa tried to rival him, no matter how hard he worked against everything? 

Oikawa wondered if they knew he wasn’t a genius.

Oikawa was back at the volleyball gym in Aoba Johsai, hitting another round of spikes. He’d dropped his nephew from practice, leaving Oikawa alone to practice his serves. He silently wondered if the others ever noticed that he’d made a copy of the gym key when it was in his possession.

“Back here again?”

Oikawa whipped around. Iwaizumi was standing at the entrance of the gym, looking at him as he was about to throw another ball into the air. Iwaizumi had a knowing glint in his dark eyes, looking at Oikawa as he proceeded to do another spike, sending the ball flying against the Aoba Johsai gym’s walls. Sighing, Iwaizumi picked up a ball next to Oikawa, serving it across the net himself. 

They practiced in silence, the only thing disrupting it the ripples of sound vibrating throughout the gym as the volleyballs hit their mark, and bounced to the corners of the gym. Iwaizumi was tense, and Oikawa knew that.

“What happened?” Iwaizumi asked.

“Nothing.”

Another ball over the net. 

“It’s never nothing when you’re back in the gym without reason to be,” Iwaizumi retorted, serving another ball across. “Why’d you come back?”

“No reason.”

“Do you expect me to take that answer?”

Oikawa paused, taking a ball from the ground. He looked at Iwaizumi, eyes squinted. Iwaizumi stopped, turning to face Oikawa.

“Why are you here?” Oikawa asked, looking at him.

“Tried to find you at your house. Couldn’t, so I supposed this was the only place you’d be,” Iwaizumi replied, tossing the ball in his hand before spiking it. “So tell me. What happened?”

Oikawa paused, before spiking the ball over the net again. “Takeru happened.”

“Your nephew?”

“His volleyball club happened.”

Iwaizumi stopped mid toss, looking at Oikawa. “What does his volleyball club have to do with your miseries?”

“They saw me on TV, and told me I was the best.”

“Don’t you like being told you’re the best?”

Oikawa’s lips pressed into a sad smile. “Only when I believe that it’s true.”

Oikawa slumped onto the floor, knees bent close to his chest. Iwaizumi took a seat next to him, playing with a volleyball in his hands, the two leaning on the heavy cart of volleyballs. Oikawa sighed, picking a ball next to him, flinging it on the other side of the court. It didn’t even make it across. He could feel the bitterness rise in him again.

“Oikawa Tooru isn’t a genius, he’s just the golden ratio of Miyagi,” he spat bitterly, flinging another ball. “God doesn’t make everyone even.”

“Oikawa, stop.”

“Why can’t I be like them?” Oikawa whispered, voice quivering. “Why can’t I be like Kageyama? Why can’t I spike like Ushijima? Why can’t I do anything?!”

Tears were now streaming down his face. Iwaizumi held his hand.

“Oikawa, stop.”

“I can’t Hajime. I can’t stop!”

And again, he was on the floor crying.

* * *

_”Thank you for the three years!” ___

__Oikawa walked next to Iwaizumi, silent as they looked up into the night sky. It was a clear night, not a cloud in the sky as the wind blew, trees quivering. Stars blanketed the dark expanse, twinkling down at them, as if greeting them. The moon glowed, the only source of light they had amidst the dim glowing streetlamps, moths flying around the shaded lights, fireflies buzzing around the air. It was cold, the frosty temperatures cutting into Oikawa’s skin, the Aoba Johsai tracksuit barely enough to keep him warm as the wind stroked his face, chilling them. His hands were shoved into his pockets, toasty, yet it could barely warm his emptiness._ _

__“It’s the end of three years,” Iwaizumi began, sighing. “I can’t believe it’s here.”_ _

__“Well, you have to believe it, because it’s real.”_ _

__The two continued their path down the street. Oikawa felt comfort in his recognition of all his surroundings, memories tugging at his heart as he observed the tiny details of their neighborhood. The old fountain, where he and Iwaizumi used to play as kids, and where Iwaizumi had fallen in after Oikawa accidentally pushed him over. Or the thicket behind the neighborhood where they would always play hide and seek, where Oikawa nearly cried because he couldn’t find Hajime. Hajime, conversely, was enjoying the sight of fish running down a clear brook, unaware of Oikawa’s wails as he tried to find his friend._ _

__He would soon never see it again._ _

__“Can I stay over at your house tonight?” Oikawa asked, looking at Iwaizumi. Even before he asked, he knew the answer was yes._ _

__“You can _still_ manage to eat pizza?” Iwaizumi asked, looking at him._ _

__“I never said we were going to order pizza, I just asked if I could stay over!”_ _

__“Trashykawa, we both know that you stay over when you want pizza.”_ _

__Oikawa scoffed, placing a hand on his heart. “Your lack of faith hurts me, Iwa-chan!”_ _

__Iwaizumi chuckled. Oikawa smiled, because even if he didn’t say yes, they both ended up in his house anyway. The Iwaizumi household was a bundle of warmth from the cold air outside, both his parents greeting Oikawa warmly as he entered unannounced, immediately fussing over him and making small talk with him. They immediately brought out the telephone to call the two’s favorite pizza service as they lounged on the sofa, reciting their usual order to Iwaizumi’s parents perfectly in unison. A recording of their first match against Karasuno in the Inter High tournament played on the TV, pizza resting between them, hot from the delivery. As the on screen Oikawa missed a serve, Iwaizumi laughed, chomping on his pizza._ _

__“Rude, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa scoffed, kicking Iwaizumi over. “You really are a shitty person.”_ _

__“Ironic that you’re saying that.”_ _

__“Iwa-chan!”_ _

__They continued to watch the match, laughing at each other’s misses and complaining each time Karasuno scored a point (which was many times, to their despair). As Aoba Johsai was pronounced the victors, they cheered, even if they knew how it would all end eventually, jumping up and down as Hinata’s demon spike was blocked, paving Aoba Johsai’s victory. Oikawa laughed as Iwaizumi jumped around the court on screen, uncharacteristically excited, a wide smile painted on his face as the team huddled into a group hug. Even if they knew how it ended, they still celebrated in the Iwaizumi living room. It was just the slightest bit pathetic._ _

___But,_ Oikawa reflected, _maybe it’s just the little things that matter.__ _

__They continued to lounge on the sofa, memories of their dumb fights and even worse adventures arose as they continued to scarf the pizza down, muscles still exhausted from their match earlier in the day. Oikawa laughed as Iwaizumi choked on a pepperoni at the memory of a time he dated a girl from Kitagawa Daiichi, who apparently liked him only because he was a ace on the volleyball team. Sure, she was pretty, but Oikawa knew something was wrong with her even before Iwaizumi introduced the both of them to each other. Regardless of Oikawa’s advice, Iwaizumi dated her for a month. Iwaizumi bore 4 months of incessant reminders of ‘I told you so’ from Oikawa, leading to several punches on Oikawa’s stomach._ _

__“I told you Iwa-chan,” Oikawa laughed in a sing-song voice, snatching the last piece of pizza. “I’m always right.”_ _

__“As if, Bakakawa.”_ _

__Oikawa wondered if Iwaizumi knew the real reason why he broke them up._ _

__It was Oikawa’s turn to turn red as Iwaizumi reminded him of the time he promised to marry Iwaizumi when they were kids, not knowing what the true meaning of marriage was even if they knew how to pronounce it. He threw a pillow at Iwaizumi, who dodged it with ease, teasing him about marriage details until Oikawa was certain he would burst. His cheeks were puffed up in a mixture of anger and embarrassment as the next barrages of pillows were sent at Iwaizumi, all of which missed the laughing Iwaizumi._ _

__“You know, I’m scared,” Oikawa sighed. They were now in Iwaizumi’s room, looking at the ceiling as they talked, their heads rested on pillows._ _

__“Of?”_ _

__“The future,” Oikawa responded simply, sighing. “It’s dumb that we don’t know what’s going to happen. It would make life so much easier if we were told where we would be going.”_ _

__“It would also be inexplicably boring, you dumbass.”_ _

__“Hey!” Oikawa protested, hurling a small pillow at Iwaizumi. “Rude, Iwa-chan!”_ _

__Iwaizumi laughed. It was music to his ears._ _

__“I don’t think I’ll be able to cope without the Aoba Johsai team,” Oikawa admitted as his laughter subsided, replaced with seriousness. “I don’t think I can. It’ll be weird not to have Watachi’s receives, or Mattsun’s blocks, or Maki’s spikes, or you.”_ _

__“That’s what you said last time, when we moved from Kitagawa Daiichi,” Iwaizumi chuckled. “And look where we are with the Aoba Johsai team.”_ _

__“Most of the team is from Kitagawa Daiichi,” Oikawa pointed out. “And I never had to get used to a new ace.”_ _

__Iwaizumi smiled, expression forlorn as he faced the ceiling. “I don’t know what I’ll do if we face off in university.”_ _

__“I’ll win, obviously.”_ _

__“Shut up, Shittykawa.”_ _

__They both broke into laughter, Oikawa launching a pillow at Iwaizumi’s comment. Silence enveloped the two, comfortable as they simply laid there, the either saying nothing. It was a silence they were used to, and one Oikawa would miss._ _

__Oikawa drew himself up, moving to a sitting position against the propped up pillows on the bed. Iwaizumi did the same, sighing as the silence continued._ _

__“Iwa-chan?”_ _

__“Yeah?”_ _

__“Thanks for always being there,” Oikawa breathed out._ _

__“I’m your best friend, of course I always have to be there.”_ _

__“Thank you.”_ _

__Oikawa didn’t know how their lips ended up meeting, or how it continued. All he knew was that he felt nothing in that moment other than bliss as their lips moved over each other’s. All he felt was ease as they continued, gentle and soft against each other. It wasn’t the fiery kiss Oikawa imagined having so many times with Iwaizumi, where their fight for dominance would be evident. It had no sense of urgency, no sense of neediness. It had none of their fiery quips and retorts, or the feistiness of either of them. It was tentative. It was loving. It wasn’t anything Oikawa expected._ _

__He didn’t expect tears either._ _

__As their lips parted, Iwaizumi hugged him, stroking his soft hair as he did when they were kids, gentle as he let Oikawa cry on his shoulder, strong arms wrapped around him as they did so many times in the Aoba Johsai gym. The only difference was that Oikawa wasn’t crying about broken crayons like he did as a kid. He wasn’t crying over a broken toss._ _

__He was crying over his breaking heart._ _

__“Thank you, Tooru,” Iwaizumi whispered as he held his best friend close to him._ _

__“For everything.”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> THE FIC WASN'T MEANT TO BE THIS LONG I SWEAR—
> 
> it was originally meant to be a short 5,000 words, but evidently things got too out of hand and i got too excited writing oikawa because, hot take, he's one of the most developed characters in hq despite only appearing on it for the finales of season 1 and 2, and as a cameo several times in season 3. easily my favorite character, and imagining his character development makes me cry all the time so of course i had to put my tears into one hell of a fic :3
> 
> i worked really hard on my general style of writing also. my english teacher doesn't let me use conjunctions in the beginning of sentences but i like writing like that, so i went ahead with it to built tension and effect as much as i could. i hope to further improve my style as i increase the amount of fics i write!
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this!
> 
> love, turnabout cafe.


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